


Frustration

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson and his ridiculous crush on Skye, Coulson growing to like Hunter back, F/M, Gen, Hunter and Coulson drinking together, Hunter is Coulson's confidant, Hunter's crush on Coulson, Hunter's crush on Skoulson, secret Skoulson relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six times Coulson drinks with Hunter. Spanning pre-2x01 through 2x15.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frustration

1.

“So, what’s the story with you and Skye, then?”

“Story?”

“Was it a bad breakup?”

“ _What_?”

Coulson almost chokes on his beer as he eyes the exit behind Hunter. He doesn’t know the man very well, yet — Hunter is only here because Agents Morse and Hartley have vouched for him — and honestly, Coulson is wary of his type: a bit more of a drinker, a bit more of a gossip, a bit more  _nosy_ than generally makes Coulson comfortable. 

“That a no?”

“Skye and I have always had a purely professional relationship.”

“Right,” Hunter answers, rolling his eyes.

And some part of Coulson's brain knows it's bait meant to get him hooked and talking and defending himself, but he takes it anyways. 

“Why would you even suggest that?” Coulson regrets the question as soon as he’s asked it.

“Have you seen the way you look at each other? You’re avoiding her, but when she’s not looking, you stare at her like you want to —”

“That’s enough,” Coulson cuts him off.

“I’m just saying, you clearly have something —”

“Enough.”

Hunter puts his hands up, including the beer dangling loosely from between his right index finger and thumb, and then leans back in his seat.

“Sorry, mate. No offense intended.” Hunter’s face is smug, though, as though Coulson’s reaction has probably told him much more than words ever could have. Which it has, and he should really really know better than to deal with people like Hunter.

Coulson runs his left hand over his face and takes a long pull to finish his beer.

It's worked, though. It's worked because he wants to explain himself, he wants to clear his name.

It's possible that it works because he wants an ear, any ear, even if it's attached to someone he's lukewarm about. Maybe especially if it's attached to someone he's lukewarm about, someone with no vested interest.

“Skye and I were close last year.”

“Close how?”

Coulson shrugs; it’s not really something he can name. He’s aware of the steps he’s taken to put distance between them — no calls while he’s away, no working across the desk from each other, no discussions after hours about anything and everything.

Hunter nods as though he gets it, and Coulson frowns because he's uncomfortable with the idea that Hunter has gotten anything out of his awkward pause.

“Some things have happened that have put some distance between us.”

“But she disagrees with that choice,” Hunter suggests.

“She doesn’t get a say in that choice.”

Hunter’s eyebrows shoot up.

The other man is blessedly silent, though, as he goes to the fridge and returns with another six pack and the bottle opener. Coulson pulls out a proffered bottle and downs half of it — he’s not sure whether he’s trying to avoid further conversation with Hunter, or just make it more palatable.

“You’re not happy with it either,” Hunter suggests.

“Of course I’m not,” Coulson answers. “But that doesn’t change the circumstances.”

“And what are those circumstances, exactly?”

Coulson almost snorts at the idea that he would answer that question, that he would divulge secrets to a merc that he wouldn’t even tell to _Skye_ , and Hunter nods. Again, Coulson is aware that he’s managed to reveal a lot through his non-answer.

“So you’re hiding something from her, then.”

“Hunter —”

“Something personal, huh? That’s why you have to keep your distance, isn’t it? She would smell out the lie in a heartbeat.”

“Or I’d just break and tell her everything,” Coulson admits, as much to himself as Hunter, who looks incredibly amused.

“Would that really be so bad?”

“I don’t know. It might be fine. It might be really unsafe.”

“Lying to her for her own good, hmm? Reminds me of me and my ex-wife.”

“We’re not like that,” Coulson insists.

“Back when we were married,” Hunter continues as though he’s unaware of Coulson’s statement, “the hellbeast would always —”

Coulson groans to cut off the rant. Hunter hasn’t been at the base for a month, and he’s already legendary for these long diversions about his horrible ex-wife. Of course, Hunter’s horrible hellbeast of an ex-wife is a star agent. Hunter's horrible hellbeast of an ex-wife is one of the few people outside his little team that he's really trusting (he's certainly trusting her more than he's trusting Lance Hunter). And when Bobbi vouched for Hunter several months ago, she told him some about their failed marriage. 

“Your ex-wife is a friend of mine,” Coulson reminds him, pointing with the neck of his beer and shutting down the rant. “Watch it.”

“I’m just saying, she lied about a lot.”

“She’s a _spy_. She didn’t lie to you, she just didn’t tell you about the work she did _as a spy_ , you idiot.”

“It’s easy to say that, but once you know someone will keep things from you...how can you ever trust them?”

“Because you know that they’d never keep anything from you without good reason,” Coulson answers easily, though there’s still a pit in his stomach about it.

“And what makes your judgement of ‘good reason’ a valid one, then?”

Coulson swallows, and then remembers who is asking him this question.

“Skye and I are not you and Bobbi. She trusts me.”

“You sure of that?”

“Yes,” he answers. He is sure of it; he just sometimes thinks that maybe she shouldn’t trust him.

Maybe this would all be so much easier if she  _didn't_ look at him like she would trust him with her life...if she didn't look at him like that while he was lying to her.

 

2.

“Did you do a jump in a car?”

They’re drinking again. Because what else do you do with Lance Hunter, really?

“Not a planned one. It was sort of...Plan B escape route. Where did you hear that?”

“Skye mentioned it before she jumped last week — said that one was her first jump.”

Coulson half-laughs at that.

“There was a lot of falling, and it was from much higher.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Hunter suggests.

“Yes.”

“The kind of thing that could really forge a bond between two people —”

“That’s enough.”

Hunter shrugs but leans back in his chair with his beer.

“She seemed almost nostalgic about falling to her almost-death in a convertible, though,” Hunter adds, because Hunter can never just shut his mouth.

Coulson glares at him, but it must not come across as that threatening — he _has_ had several beers — because Hunter keeps going.

“What were you escaping from?”

“Ward.”

“The psycho in the basement that’s obsessed with her?”

“That’s the one. She realized he was Hydra before any of us." 

"He kidnapped her?"

"He needed her and she went along, working an angle. He didn't lock her up until she called the police."

Hunter laughs at that. 

"Brave girl."

"Yeah," Coulson agrees, small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "He had reinforcements, though. They locked her up on the Bus."

"And you rescued her." 

"I got on board and helped her get off," he deflects.

“And you got on board how, then?”

“Snuck on through the wheel well while they were taking off. I wasn't anticipating the reinforcements, so we had to jump instead of take back the cockpit.”

Hunter is quiet for a long time, sizing him up.

“What?”

“Makes me respect you more, is all.”

“What? That I drove my car off a plane?”

“No, that you mounted a one man rescue operation for a non-essential level one operative who had never even gone to the Academy.”

“There’s no such thing as non-essential people,” Coulson counters. “And you’re a fool if you think I don’t design every mission to get everyone back in one piece. I do everything I can to keep everyone alive.”

“I know you do,” Hunter admits, and even though Coulson can _logically_ absolve himself of Agent Hartley’s death, it’s somehow a relief to know that Hunter can do the same. Absolving himself logically, after all, doesn’t stop the knowledge of the loss and the feeling responsibility.

There’s a long silence between them, and Coulson watches Hunter closely as he drinks a beer and stares into space, presumably thinking about his friend.

“You’re not going to argue that it mattered that it was Skye, though?”

“Excuse me?”

“You went yourself to rescue her.”

“Yes.”

“All James Bond, rescuing her from her psycho stalker. Every Bond needs a Bond girl, right?”

“Enough.”

Hunter shrugs, but his smile is a little smug in a way that makes it clear he’s not done talking.

“I couldn’t figure it out at first, you know.

Coulson does his best to remain impassive, to not give into Hunter’s obvious intention that he ask, ‘figure out what?’

“You and Skye,” Hunter answers the question Coulson had so pointedly refused to ask. “The way she spoke to you about your undercover op with May, you’d think she’s used to having as much say in designing operations as you have.”

Coulson doesn’t respond to that, but his non-response clearly speaks the answer Hunter is looking for.

“That’s what I thought. But what I can’t figure out is _why_. I mean, you’re not the type of man who would give special favor to someone in your bed —”

“Skye and I have _never_ —”

“I’ve heard it,” Hunter cuts him off. “And I can tell she’s a smart one, but —”

“Skye is a genius,” Coulson interjects. “She’s saved my life and Fitz’s life, and she came up with the plan that took down Centipede.”

He’s bragging again. He does that a lot, when he talks about Skye.

“And yet when she wants to help with ops now —”

“Things have changed. It’s not my choice; they just have.”

“It frustrates you, doesn’t it? Is it worse that you’ve cut her out, or worse that she won’t let you hear the end of it?”

Coulson scowls at Hunter and takes a long pull off his beer. The truth is that Skye has handled everything — has handled him pushing her away both personally and professionally — better than can really be expected. Half the time, he thinks she’s actually more worried about him than she is about being involved in general, and that just makes the whole mess hurt more.

Hunter’s amusement finally gets to be more than Coulson can handle, though, and he scowls as he finishes his beer and stands up — he’s done being someone else's entertainment.

 

 

3.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while.”

Hunter greets him and hands him a beer as Coulson takes a seat on one of the couches.

“True enough,” he agrees.

“No need for drinking since you and Skye patched things up?”

“I’ve been busy,” Coulson states.

“Not what I meant.”

“Yes,” Coulson sighs, “I know what you meant.”

Coulson sips at his beer while ignoring the insinuations. He’d almost forgotten his reason for no longer drinking with Lance Hunter. Or, well, one reason, since the insinuation that he doesn’t need to drink now that he’s back in Skye’s good graces isn’t exactly wrong.

“Do you know how much time you spend with her?”

“Skye is working on —”

“Yeah, I get it. She’s doing important projects. Sharing important secrets. She was doing most of that before I caught you hugging in her daddy’s hideout, though.”

“And your point is?”

“No point,” Hunter admits.

Coulson sips his beer and tries to wrap his brain around things. Hunter’s insinuations aren’t wrong — he and Skye have been spending a lot of time together and the fact is that he has _missed_ her, missed her like she’s been gone, missed her almost like he was missing a part of himself. And now that she’s back in his office again…

Well, it’s good. Of course, he’s also getting worse, so he almost can’t enjoy it.

“Skye wasn’t kidding, though, was she?”

“About what?”

“She told me that you used to be different towards her, but I never figured you for a hugger.”

“I’m not,” Coulson answers, trying to inject warning into his tone. But, of course, Hunter has never cared for threats delivered in the form of frowns and warning tones.

“Just with her, then?”

“Yes. Just with her.”

Honestly, Coulson’s hoping to shock Hunter into silence, but the admission just eggs him on.

“What else do you get up to  _just with her_ then?”

“Skye and I have a —”

“ _Purely professional relationship_?”

Hunter openly mocks him, mocks the label Coulson has given him before.

“Yes.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. I saw you.”

Coulson takes a long pull off his beer.

“You weren’t anywhere near letting go when I interrupted you. I thought you were going to have my head for barging in. You’re telling me it would have stopped there?”

“Skye was in no place to —”

Hunter laughs — half knowingly half drunkenly — and Coulson rolls his eyes.

“But you wanted to.”

“I’m not going to have this conversation with you.”

“Fair enough," Hunter replies, and from the look that passes over his face, Coulson suddenly worries that they're about to have a much more unpleasant conversation. "How about the conversation where you explain why I didn’t know Bobbi was on this team?”

Coulson smiles at that and takes another long pull off his beer, finishing the bottle. Hunter replaces it instantly. And that’s the thing about Lance Hunter — he’s annoying as hell, he asks uncomfortably nosy questions, but he’s a great drinking partner.

“Would it have made a difference?” He smiles at Hunter, eyes dancing a little too much because — and yes, this amuses him — Lance Hunter has developed actual loyalty to this team. Oh, it’ll take some time for it to be something real, but he’s been here before...with someone who didn’t even know they were a recruit, yet.

“No,” Hunter admits, sighs and sinks back into the couch. “I would have stayed on with Izzy just the same.”

“You might have taken off afterwards if you had known she’d be back.”

“No. I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh?”

“You...you value your people. It’s worth sticking around for.”

And Coulson thinks that’s high praise indeed coming from the mouth of Lance Hunter. His grin must be a little too smug, though, because Hunter scowls at him.

“I do value you,” Coulson tells him. “And that doesn’t change just because Agent Morse is back.”

Hunter visibly preens under the praise, and Coulson rises from the couch, leaves a half-empty bottle on the coffee table.

“Off to find Skye then?”

Coulson frowns at him, but Hunter just smiles innocently.

“I don’t value you so much that I won’t put you on inventory duty again,” Coulson warns and Hunter pantomimes zipping his lips, though he immediately parts them to suck down another swallow of beer.

And Coulson goes to find Skye.

 

4. 

“I’d like to ask you to keep what you saw to yourself.”

“I have,” Hunter informs him.

“In the future, too. Even from Agent Morse.”

“That’s asking a lot, isn’t it? Keeping something from the old lady, right as we’re starting to really patch things up.”

“I’m sure that everyone finding out what the two of you have been up to in the back of the SUV would put the brakes on patching things up.”

“You wouldn’t do it,” Hunter informs him, sounding entirely too sure of himself. Coulson is the profiler, here, and it annoys him to have Hunter behaving as though he's got his number. 

“How’s that?”

“I don’t care much what people know,” he answers. “Bobbi, on the other hand, likes to keep things quiet. And you know that.”

“I could make her think that you’d told.”

“It would still only hurt her, wouldn’t it? And you’re just not that kind of man.”

Coulson frowns at Hunter and takes a long pull of his beer.

“I’ll —”

“You don’t have to threaten me. I won’t tell anyone. Not even Bobbi. Though I don’t see why you feel the need to hide it. Everyone and their grandmother knows that you and Skye have had the hots for each other since before I came on board.”

“No,” Coulson answers, “they don’t.”

“Triplett and I talk about it literally  _all the time_. Once he figures it out, he's going to owe me fifty dollars. You two are the most interesting drama around here by a long shot.”

Hunter sort of wiggles his eyebrows obscenely, and Coulson frowns at the idea of his love life being gossip.

“Even so, most of the team think I’m…”

“What?”

“They think I’m a surrogate father to her.”

“Anyone who’s seen the two of you and come away thinking that?” Hunter shakes his head and chuckles into his bottle. “Well, you shouldn’t let them on any missions involving observation or gathering intelligence,” Hunter offers, and Coulson almost laughs.

“It could get uncomfortable for her if people know.”

“Is that what you think, or what she thinks?”

Coulson frowns at him.

“I was good friends with Maria Hill when Nick Fury named her Assistant Director. Their relationship was purely professional, but that didn’t stop jokes about…”

“And you’re worried people will think Skye’s sleeping her way to the top.”

“I don’t want her to have to put up with any more of that than she’ll already get. Not for my sake.”

“Does she agree?”

“No,” Coulson admits. “She thinks we should come clean.”

“You might listen to her. Keeping secrets...it might not end well. Besides, wouldn’t you like people to know? Wouldn’t you like to be able to announce to the world that this is the woman you’ve fallen in love with? The woman you've chosen to be with? Wouldn’t you like to be able to kiss her in the middle of a debrief for no reason except you’re happy she’s there? Wouldn’t you like everyone to know, to have everyone be happy for the both of you?”

Coulson does imagine how nice it would be to not feel like he is breaking rules, to be able to have Skye move into his room, to be able to kiss her at breakfast or in the middle of the day.

“How much have you had to drink?” Coulson asks, clearing his throat against the pleasant thoughts of _really_ being with Skye.

“Oh, lots,” is Hunter’s only answer. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong, though.”

Coulson nods.

“And how much of that is you wishing you’d chosen to love someone who isn’t a spy?”

Hunter makes a sound like laughter, but there’s no happiness it.

“Well, I didn’t choose it, did I? That’s why it’s so frustrating.”

Coulson sort of smiles at that. He supposes that he hasn't  _chosen_ to love Skye, but acting on it has been a choice. One that, he has to admit, it would be nice to celebrate.

 

 

5.

“How is she?”

“Still unconscious,” Coulson answers, accepting a bottle from Hunter as he heads to the couch.

“It’s been almost twelve hours, hasn’t it?”

“Eleven hours and forty,” he glances at his watch, “seven minutes since they dug her out.”

Hunter gives him a look that almost wants to be a smirk — mocking him for his incessant counting of the time — but it comes across more like a sad smile because Hunter gets it. Coulson knows he gets it. He gets it as someone who appreciates Skye, but more than that, he gets it as a man who has known what it is to fear for someone dear. He gets it as someone who knows what it is to experience the instant between thinking that your lover is dead and knowing she's  _alive_. 

And Coulson has felt this before — felt it about Skye — this certainty that she would die, and this sudden hope that there is a miracle, and this crushing fear that the miracle will have too many consequences. 

“Is it killing you to not be able to touch her?”

Coulson just takes a long pull of his bottle.

“You know, if you told everyone, they’d at least find it less weird that you’ve been sitting outside the quarantine room for most of the last eleven hours and forty eight minutes.”

“No one finds it that strange anyways.”

Hunter nods.

Coulson wonders if more people should find that strange.

“So why’d you leave, then?”

“May said I needed to sleep.”

“Drinking’s a good enough substitute, I suppose.”

“Not sure I’ll be able to sleep without it,” Coulson admits.

He rubs his free hand across his eyes. He’s never been so tired, so battered, so desperately in need of sleep but simultaneously unable to fathom the idea of it. He's not sure whether he's more scared of the nightmares where Skye is dead or the ones where there's somehow something worse.

“You could make up a bed down there, you know.”

“ _That_ would get people talking.”

Probably.

“Then just _tell_ them.”

Coulson glares at Hunter.

“Think how happy it would make Skye to wake up and have everyone know. You could walk right into that room and plant one on her.”

“Right now, I’ll settle for knowing she’s alright.”

“You’re still worried she’s not?”

“Raina and Trip are no where to be found. And something down there…”

“This is about your alien goo, yeah?”

Coulson frowns in reply.

“You’re worried that she’s not okay because something might have reacted to the alien in her?”

“Yes,” Coulson finally sighs. “Close enough.”

“She looks fine,” Hunter offers.

“So did I.”

Hunter takes a breath, clearly searching for something useful to say.

“She’s a fighter, you know. She’ll make it.”

“She always has before,” Coulson agrees.

There’s a long silence between them during which Coulson contemplates Lance Hunter because it's something to do that isn't panicking about Skye. 

He's come to  _like_ Hunter, and more than that, he's come to trust him. 

“When all the dust settles, I’d like to talk to you about fully joining the team.”

“You’re offering me a permanent job?”

“Sure,” Coulson nods, and Hunter smiles at him — it’s weird how such a crass, annoying man can look so shy sometimes.

“Do I have to train with Agent May? Because she’s scary," Hunter jokes.

“Some would say that’s a good quality in an SO,” Coulson offers. “But no. You’d report directly to me.”

Hunter grins at that, like he knows it’s unusual.

“Going to make Skye jealous, isn’t it? Doesn’t she want to _report directly to you_?”

Coulson almost blushes.

“No, Skye’s never wanted that.”

“Makes sense,” Hunter appraises. “You seem like you’d do most of the _reporting_ in that relationship.”

It makes him choke on his beer, and he’d be upset with Hunter being so forward except that it’s the first thing that’s taken his mind off of worries for Skye since her father was beating him to death. Or maybe since May told him Ward had kidnapped her. Or maybe since he woke her from a nightmare. Or maybe since her father told him that she'd be at the center of whatever happened. Or maybe long, long before that.

Hunter looks proud.

“Would it cause problems for me and Bobbi? She makes it sound like SHIELD has some pretty strict policies.”

“Old SHIELD did.”

“New SHIELD doesn’t?”

Coulson shrugs and Hunter half-laughs at the embarrassed gesture.

“You do that for Skye?”

“Yes and no.” He finishes a bottle and takes a new one from Hunter. “We had a big fight when she had been here for a few weeks. There was a mission through The Hub, and she didn't like not being told the full specs. She didn't like levels, and she didn't like being told to trust the system.”

“You told her to trust SHIELD? I can guess how well that turned out.”

“Yeah, you can."

"She go behind your back and do her hacker thing?" 

"Yeah." He smiles fondly at how innocent they were back then. "Good thing, too. She saved the day."

"Proved you wrong, huh?"

Coulson just smiles.

"She asked some really hard questions about the real purpose of levels. Made me wonder how you could ever trust a system where rank determines worth to the organization.”

Hunter laughs openly.

“Good little socialist, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she is,” Coulson answers, smiling sort of wistfully.

“So when you got the helm, you got rid of levels.”

“Right.”

“And fraternization?”

“Without levels, it doesn’t have the same stigma. Less chance of someone abusing a position of power.”

Hunter nods, but furrows his eyebrows.

“It’s more than that, though. You could still officially frown on it.”

“She taught me the value in caring about the individual. Sometimes...it’s a good thing.”

“Sometimes…”

“It worked for you, too.”

Hunter smiles a little at that.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises. “Talk it over with the ball and chain when we have some time.”

“Are you going to tell her that there’s no fraternization rule?”

“And admit I talked about it with you? I value my boys too much, thank you.”

“She won’t hear about it from me, either,” Coulson promises, and then yawns, so big his jaw cracks under the strain.

“You should probably catch some sleep, sir. I’ll keep an eye on Skye, if you like.”

Coulson nods once and Hunter and then heads back to his quarters.

 

 

6.

Coulson tucks away Hunter’s signature in his right pocket and bites back a smirk. There aren’t very many things that could make him smile right now, but this is one.

Lance Hunter, as it turns out, has grown on him.

“So, what’s our first move?”

Coulson sips his drink and frowns as Hunter happily accepts his frozen cocktail. There are four umbrellas and a few pieces of fruit stuck on a plastic sword. And Hunter looks pleased as punch to have every one of those decorations.

For all that Hunter has great taste in beer, he clearly has lousy taste in mixed drinks.

“Skye,” Coulson answers easily.

“Okay, where is she?”

“No idea.”

Hunter takes a long sip from his straw.

“I thought you stashed her somewhere safe?”

“I did,” Coulson answers. “Nick Fury kept a safehouse for gifted individuals. It’s a nice cabin, secluded, on a lake, lots of room and fresh air. It’s a good spot. But…”

“But this fake SHIELD got to her first.”

“That’s what May said. So either she ran, or…”

Hunter nods.

“So we start by heading there?”

“As good a move as any,” Coulson nods.

“And you have a vehicle, I hope?”

“We’re going to have to requisition one.”

Hunter laughs at that.

“I’m guessing that will be my area then?”

Coulson just raises his eyebrows and takes a sip from his cup. There’s too much juice and not nearly enough rum.

“And —”

The bartender comes back into earshot, and Hunter’s enough of a pro that he knows to keep quiet.

“Any chance you’ve lost that, uh, cabin?”

“Yes,” Coulson acknowledges. “We might have to deal with...the lawyers.”

“The lawyers can be frustrating, can’t they?”

“You know it even better than I do,” Coulson admits.

“Yeah. I do.”

And Coulson feels bad for Hunter, dealing with such an intimate betrayal. He can relate, actually.

“You know she cares about you.”

“Are you going to defend my ex-wife’s priorities in all this?”

“No,” Coulson shrugs. “She betrayed me. But she was trying _not_ to betray you, surely you see that.”

Hunter shrugs, and Coulson’s not even positive about his motivations — whether he said that for Hunter’s sake or whether he’s not quite sure Hunter will choose him over Agent Morse if it comes down to it.

As though he can read Coulson’s lack of certainty, Hunter reaches over and taps Coulson’s hip. Coulson’s eyebrows raise in something like shock.

“Signed my life over, didn’t I?” And yeah, his pocket. Hunter was touching his pocket. “I’m with you.”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks for trying to cheer me up, though.” He grins around his straw and sucks up too much icy drink in one sip.

They finish their drinks and then rise from the bar stools.

“Let’s go get your lady, then.”

 


End file.
